


the blood moon temple

by computereality



Category: Naruto
Genre: Blood, Cannibalism, Death, Gen, Gore, Lowercase, One Shot, also i made up some more senju because i needed butsuma to talk to someone, butsuma centric, butsumas midlife crisis because his midlife is his 20s, secondary character death, tajima gets angry at senju for being atheists, theres a weird sexual tension between butsuma and tajima but its not btsutaji fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:47:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24620317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/computereality/pseuds/computereality
Summary: “even their gods did not help.” butsuma notices, so quietly, hoping no uchiha demon hears him.“this is the living's world.” his father answers. “we don’t need gods.”
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	the blood moon temple

the temple ruins were shining, crimson moon reflecting in the puddles and on the polished walls.  
butsuma inhales. he smells blood, wetness. moss. and death. some of it faded, many people must have fallen there, not so long ago.  
he always felt more than his father, than his clanmates. the air here makes him want to throw up, energy so overwhelming, too much for his young body, still so inexperienced.  
but his father feels nothing of that, so he continues to go forward. butsuma forces himself to cover his nose and mouth, following him. it does nothing. he never learned how to handle such energy. nor anyone ever taught him how to.  
he watches smooth walls that are barely standing. chunks of them missing. beautiful paintings, hard to see them in the dark of crimson night.  
uchiha really cared for this temple. if not the blood, not the young moss, not the small fragments of walls and columns on the floor.  
butsuma can tell that uchiha fought hard for this place. he can tell they lost it. and he can tell that his people did not care to keep this beautiful place as it is. it’s stunning architecture, it’s paintings. it hurts him, how much his family does not appreciate foreign art and culture. even  
if uchiha were their enemies.  
but he knows why they did it. to show disrespect, power. to tell them how much they don’t care about uchiha gods.  
senju border, now so deep into the old uchiha territory. butsuma doesn’t like the energy of this place. as much as it would be beautiful if not in ruins, it feels alien. it feels stained by the uchiha. he wonders if those red dots in the distance are flowers, or blood stains.  
blood, he thinks. nothing shall bloom on such stained land.  
he has heard the uchiha clan leader is going crazy. butsuma wonders how much of it is a lie, but the fact that they lost a fight so deep into their former territory, a place so important to them, makes him believe that morale in uchiha is not very high right now.  
his father comes closer to a wet, cold altar. he picks up the broken mask, wooden and painted white, with red and gold elements. long tusks stick out of its mouth. looks scary, and he wonders if it's a demon, or one of their gods.  
uchiha are feral, insane, frightening. who knows if who they worship are not the same way.  
“even their gods did not help.” butsuma notices, so quietly, hoping no uchiha demon hears him.  
“this is the living’s world.” his father answers. “we don’t need gods.”

* * *

it doesn’t start all of sudden.  
it took a few weeks actually.  
butsuma gets a report one morning. he was serving his duty as a clan leader when his father was absent. it was happening more and more frequently, as his father wanted to teach him how to lead their people.  
“i’ve found her dead already. no signs of battle or weapons.” his sister answers. “not much was left. like something ate most of her flesh.”  
“it’s literally next to our compound.” butsuma notices. “no wild animal would come this close.”  
“weird, right?” she answers, and then laughs as she gives him the scroll. “it must have been one hungry wolf.”  
butsuma would scold her for disrespect towards the dead, but he remains silent, knowing well not to piss off his older sister.  
it has happened two more times, before his father returned.  
butsuma couldn't be more happier to give his father's power to him back. it doesn’t mean that he stopped thinking about this problem.  
three more people died. the clan is silent, but he can see fear in their eyes.  
he notices that people stop talking about this when he comes closer. his father’s perfect soldier, they know well that everything he hears is then repeated to their leader.  
soon, everyone in the clan knows that some monster hunts on their territory, devouring human flesh.

* * *

butsuma is the one to find the next body.  
this time, deep into the forest. he remembers that he assigned two men to patrol the borders, not that far away. he wonders why they separated in the first place.  
butsuma took the chance to examine the body, before sealing the remains in the scroll.  
the man was one of the older shinobi. he was distant to butsuma in the family tree. he didn’t knew much about his personal life, but, as a soon to be leader, he knew his skills and speciality.  
he can see the man was trying to defend himself. he was a short range fighter, blood on his knuckles, kunai in his hand, his old, but still very sharp katana laying near.  
the beast has no preference in meat, as it seems. it consumes flesh, muscles, as well as some guts. as long as there's human blood involved, it devours.  
bites are visible on his skin and butsuma notices that they belong to a human. not even sharp canines. he wonders, if some powerful cannibal lives on their territory, showing himself every few days to find the next victim, and then going to sleep, until they get hungry again.  
“i don’t know when we separated,” said the other man, asked to explain the situation. “nor i haven’t seen any beast. i think he must have gotten lost, and when the beast saw him alone, it attacked.”  
he then reports to his father and spends the whole day in his room, noting and reading reports he stole from his father's office. butsuma knows that he won’t mind.

* * *

butsuma asked for permission to take care of this situation.  
“denied.”  
“the last victim was found two days ago,” butsuma continues. “the beast should attack soon. if only i could find-”  
“other people will take care of this, son.”  
his father looked old. for the first time in butsuma’s life, he looked tired, not sleeping well. and it hurts. it hurts because butsuma for the first time feels like his father is not gonna lead their people forever. he will replace him, sooner than he hoped.  
“i’ve read the reports. the beast attacked only weaker members of our clan.” butsuma continues, as he is stubborn, his father always told him he got that from his mother. “older shinobi, or those who are not specialised in combat. there’s a chance i can find it and fight back. i can heal quickly so if it tries-”  
“enough.” his father stands up, and lets himself show emotions, such a rare thing to witness. sadness. butsuma remembers what his father taught him. repeating over and over that showing emotions is a weakness, and that butsuma has to learn how to do the opposite.  
now, his father, a strong warrior, clan head, looks soft. butsuma is not comfortable with that thought.  
“we’ve lost enough people already.” he whispers. “and i can’t afford losing you. have you forgotten that you will soon become the leader of our people?”  
of course, his father doesn’t care about his son. he cares about the next clan head. but butsuma is fine with that. it will only make things easier.  
you can't get attached to people during war too much.  
“if not me, then who?”  
his father doesn’t answer. butsuma isn’t patient, but decides not to push him.  
instead, he checks the furniture in his office. everything, but not to stare at his too broken father.  
it’s hard to see when things in the room were made. he can’t tell how old they were. all of them are wooden, no noticeable defects, but the room is well taken off. they could be made when butsuma was still a child, since he doesn’t remember this room in another state.  
but, he suddenly recalls when his father told him about the day his own father died. and when he was allowed to spend days there for the first time. he told butsuma that it was overwhelming at first, but he quickly got used to it.  
what if those furniture were made even before his father’s leadership?  
butsuma feels discomfort once again. he really doesn’t want to claim this room too soon.  
“i know you are the best fit for the task.” his father finally answered, so quiet, weak, with a broken voice. “you can look out for the beast. you are not, however, allowed to fight it. use your sensory skills to find it. and leave the place as soon as possible. then report to me.”  
“thank you, honorable father.”  
“now leave.”  
so he leaves. relieved. and frightened. glad he doesn’t have to spend time in this room much yet. 

* * *

as always, rumors in the clan spread quickly.  
as always, butsuma meets with critique from classmates.  
he feels like spending time only with family is making people go insane. they disagree only to produce some entertainment in the clan.  
“the leader really let him go and fight the beast?” butsuma hears whispers behind him. “he really doesn’t care about the next generation. if his son dies, who will become leader? no one is trained for that.”  
_he let me find it, not fight it_ , butsuma wants to correct, but decides that minding his own business never hurt anyone.  
the clan is scared. and it’s making itself more scared just for fun, he thinks.  
they’re overreacting. they play dead lines, and every person adds something horrifying to the story.  
he laughs, thinking how stupid this situation is. if they had one battle instead of something killing people three times a week, the casualties would be similar.  
he wonders why uchiha don’t attack. they lost their sacred land, it would be like them to try to get it back as soon as possible. is the beast killing their people too?  
he wonders if a leader should think that way. not looking at individuals, but at the clan as a whole.

* * *

the next day he went to check the territory.  
since it expanded, there was a lot of it to cover.  
maybe not the fastest of his men, but one of the best healers and better fighters, he continued. a strong battle medic was well suited for the job, especially with sensory skills.  
the first day of searching for a beast was fruitless.  
the second day got him wondering if that thing even has chakra.  
the third day got him wondering if the beast is still alive. it could be hunted by another clan, if it traveled, that is.  
the fourth day got him wondering if the beast heard that butsuma was looking for it, so it ran away. the beast was probably a human, and the clan never shuts the fuck up. it could hear someone on a patrol say that butsuma is assigned to find it.  
it's been a week since the last victim. and the clan seems to slowly forget.

* * *

on the seventh day, he senses two of his clanmates near the border of their territory.  
so butsuma runs there, wanting to offer assistance, but the closer he was, the harder he could feel it. they were fighting something.  
other clan member? no other chakra was there.  
the beast?  
he speeds up, but arrives too late. red eyes of his cousin piercing him.  
the fight was already over. she was showing her bare teeth and gums, on all fours, taking the first bite of her own brother.  
blood squirted as she ripped the skin, separating flesh from bones, and chewing.  
such a disgusting view, butsuma thinks. the energy of his cousin makes him want to throw up.  
she smells like blood. wetness. moss. death.  
he decides not to listen to his father’s orders for once, charging at the girl. he screamed, asking if she understands what he’s saying. asking her to calm down.  
she didn’t. grabbing kunai, shoving it between his ribs.  
all it took to kill the frightening beast is by returning the favor. but harder, quicker, deeper.  
disappointing, he thinks, sitting down, pulling the kunai out, _fuck, so much blood._  
he’s now taking care of the wound. thinking how stupid he is.  
he curses. it was so obvious it was someone from his clan. the darkest place is under the candle, as they say.  
he wonders if a good leader should trust his people, looking at his dying cousin, gasping, bleeding out, coughing. eyes still shining crimson red.

* * *

now, instead of fear, disgust is the main thing happening right now.  
“how could she!”, “she went insane!”, “killing her own family?!”.  
the new entertainment in the clan is a discourse if his dead cousin should, or shouldn’t have a place in their cemetery.  
“she killed our people!”  
“my sister was a gifted shinobi and assisted during many fights! she deserves to be remembered!”  
“remembered as a clanfolk murderer!”  
“it was not her fault, she was under a genjutsu!”  
he really wants to think it was a genjutsu. he can force other people to think that, but he can’t fool himself.  
if an enemy clan acquires such a powerful jutsu, they won’t even have to fight. the senju clan will just kill itself.  
maybe that’s why uchiha didn’t attack?

* * *

it’s been a week since the funeral of his cousin.  
people forgot.  
he would laugh at how stupid the society in his clan is, but he has more important things to think about.  
as always, he tells his father his concerns, asks him not to reveal this to the clan.  
“i don’t want to make people panic again.” butsuma explains. “they’re useless when scared.”  
he continued. asked for permission to look into the senju archives, to check if other, similar jutsu was ever written down.  
his father agreed.  
he was in the library, when he heard the scream.  
medic instincts kicking in, quickly standing up, running to the door, opening it.  
a few people already ran towards the house, he recognizes his father, follows, then outruns.  
adrenaline in his veins, blood boiling as he kicks the door open, running towards hot chakra signatures.  
the man was fighting his father. in the dark, the only thing bright being the older man’s red eyes.  
it started, butsuma thinks, charging at the man.

* * *

the next day, there were two attacks.  
the next day, four.  
the next day, three. one young medic, because of the poor fighting skills, was caught instead of killed.  
the next day, two.  
the next day, one. the caught medic in his cell, when clansfolk wanted to call him down, pulled out the knife from one’s hand and committed suicide.

* * *

the next day, butsuma wakes up with his father above him. his eyes were shining red.  
instincts told him to break the glass window and run away as soon as possible, as his father was a powerful fighter. he declines, knowing well he is the only one in the clan that can actually beat in a fight his current leader.  
his father, no, a beast, attacks first, pinning down butsuma to the floor, but the younger man was stronger in terms of unarmed fights, pushing the beast back.  
protect the people.  
so he ends up breaking the glass anyway, jumping out of it, landing on the ground, barefoot, skin to mud.  
the beast jumps out as well, but it lands clumsy. butsuma hates to see it, it’s like the beast’s using his father’s body as a vessel, not being used to have a form, still not sure how to use all the limbs.  
pathetic. seeing his own father, great leader, strong fighter in that shape.  
sad.  
he screams hoping everyone hears him, orders his people to stay calm, when he sees people showing up in the windows.  
his sisters ran out of the building already, he hears one of them.  
“what are you going to do now?!”  
he looks at his people in the windows. his people opening the doors. his people staring at them. in fear, but not panicking. because they always listen to the leaders commands.  
the beast attacks, pulling out the kunai from it’s belt, and butsuma has no choice but to block it with his own arm. he curses, when the blade cuts his skin, when blood runs down and sinks into the dirt.  
“what a leader would do.”  
his oldest sister nods, quickly tossing him his katana, and he runs away, healing his fresh wound.  
and the beast follows, going even more feral after smelling blood.

* * *

it’s been three days.  
butsuma still sits near the cell.  
the beast chewing at the metal. licking dirt off the floor. howling.  
“you’re hungry.” butsuma noticed.  
the beast loses control of its legs, falls down and trembles in response. butsuma stares into the red eyes. so unusual, he was always taught to never do that.  
“how long are you going to stay like that?”  
the beast curls up growling.  
it’s not the instinct to kill controlling it, but hunger for human meat. butsuma got a chunk of his thigh bitten off. he healed it, but the new tissue is still so fragile, it hurts, it’s pale instead of the rest of his golden tan skin.  
he doesn’t budge when he hears the footsteps on the rock stairs.  
his youngest sister, still older than him, comes there as well, but she limits herself to do that to give out his brother food.  
“your clan needs you.” she says delicately, her voice so soft, warm and familiar. “more than ever. you are the leader now, brother.”  
“i wish father told me what to do.” he whispers.  
she opens the box, and the beast opens its mouth, sticking the tongue out. she would give him food too, but when she tried before, it didn’t touch it. it's only allowed to eat human meat.  
“no one can tell you what to do.” she speaks, giving him the box and chopsticks. “you are the one telling people what to do now.”  
he is not in the mood to eat. he doesn’t need much energy if all he does is sitting on his ass and staring at the beast wallowing on the floor.  
he eats anyway, because his sister is overprotective.  
“i’m not suited for the work, then.” he says after swallowing the first bite.  
she sighs, looking at him eating. the beast still growls in its cell, but it's exhausted, laying on the floor, trembling.  
“you know what our father always said?” she smiles. “that you feel too much.”  
he raised his brow, and she continued.  
“he always told us to hold back tears.” she leans on the wall, staring at the beast. “that showing emotions is the worst thing a shinobi can do to hurt themself. and you’ve always listened. you never look excited, sad, or even happy.”  
butsuma listens. not eating anymore, like he doesn’t want to miss anything she says by chewing too loud.  
“but it doesn’t stop you from feeling these emotions. oh, you always were such a delicate boy. always daydreaming, wondering how to stop the fighting.” she grabs a loose flock of his long hair, laying on his face, moves it behind his ear so it does not interrupt. “and you will make a great leader. not only caring that your people are alive, but wanting to change the clan for the better, no matter what state it’s in.”  
she stands up.  
“so don’t worry about yourself right now. don’t wonder if you’re being a good leader.” she gives him a hand. “get up, and do what a leader would do.”

* * *

“so, none of our allies heard about a genjutsu like that” finishes her report butsuma’s oldest sister.  
“we’re on our own then.” he sighs.  
furniture shining golden brown thanks to the sun. his office smells of paper, ink, wood. butsuma sitting beside the desk, on the chair he hoped he wouldn't have to sit on so soon.  
“can we…” his sister whispers. “...surrender?”  
“no.” butsuma answers. “uchiha will kill us all anyway if we do. or give us fate worse than death.”  
he doesn’t need to specify what he means. all of the people know what happened to the clans that surrendered or have been conquered by the uchiha.  
beautiful handed down to the most powerful clan members. others killed.  
“so, we’re fucked.” she says. “only gods can help us now.”

* * *

the temple ruins were shining, crimson moon reflecting in the puddles and on the polished walls.  
butsuma inhales. he smells blood, wetness. moss. and death. almost faded, but still overbearing. makes him want to vomit. he doesn’t cover his nose, nor mouth. touching dried out blood. the powerful energy of it is making him shiver.  
he doesn’t know how the uchiha pray. he really hopes his people didn’t ruin this place, he would look for instructions.  
but if their gods are real, they will hear him anyway. no matter the approach.  
he stands next to the altar. the mask is still here. no senju comes here to check, because they don’t care about this place.  
so he kneels.  
hands flat on the rock floor, leaning.  
and staying like that. paying respect, something his clan failed to do. not moving an inch, slowly breathing in the smell of the wet floor.  
he’s here for his clan. because his clan needs him. because his clan expects things to get better.  
he’s here to represent his clan.  
begging. kneeling. showing weakness. because his clan is scared. and it's the only way to fix that, no matter if his honor is stained, he cares about his people more.  
that’s what a leader would do.  
“uchiha gods,” he cries out. “please have mercy.”  
water drips down the altar, right onto his hand.  
“i knew i would see someone there, sooner or later.”  
butsuma raises up quickly. if he wasn’t in a sacred place, he would attack the visitor.  
the man looked his age. an uchiha, he believes. dark ink hair, black eyes, sleek body. he wore dark purple kimono, red and gold accents so fitting to the mask left on the altar.  
maybe he has seen this man on the battlefield, but he can’t tell. all uchiha for him look the same.  
“why are you there?” butsuma asks, standing up slowly. “it’s our territory now.”  
“but this is our temple.” the man answers, coming closer. his bare foot caressing muddy grass. “and our gods.”  
he stands on the wet floor of the ruins. butsuma realizes that the man is unarmed, but he understands that he can’t get too confident, knowing well that sharingan is a weapon itself.  
“i take care of this place.” the man continues. “you may take the territory around it, but the temple will never be yours. unless you worship the same gods.”  
butsuma wonders what ‘taking care of this place’ means. it's already in ruin.  
“the more important question,” the man's voice is so smooth, yet frightening. “why are _you_ here?”  
“many of my people died because of your genjutsu.” butsuma said. lying isn’t suitable for this situation. “i’ve come to ask for help from your gods.”  
the man comes closer. butsuma doesn’t feel comfortable around uchiha. he never was this close to their men, unless on the battlefield. instincts telling him to back off, but he fights those urges.  
the man touches butsumas chin. his skin so soft, even on his fingers, as he delicately grabs it and forces him to look right into his black eyes.  
butsuma is prepared to get hit by genjutsu, but it doesn't happen.  
“it's a curse.” the man explains. “and i cursed you as a believer. not as uchiha.”  
the man retreats his hand, and butsuma noticed he wasn’t breathing the whole time.  
“bring me your clan head.” he orders. “and we both will decide the price of lifting this curse.”  
“my father has been a victim of your curse.” butsuma bites his lower lip, knowing well that the uchiha will be happy to take advantage of the new, still inexperienced leadership. “he is now imprisoned. i’m the leader of my people now.”  
the man looks at him, with an emotion on his face so weird butsuma can’t tell what it is.  
“understood.” he replies.  
butsuma wonders if the man finds it weird that the leader of people who care so much about honor was just casually praying for the gods he skeptically believes in.  
“i want these territories back, so my people can have a safe passway into their sacred land” he continues. “i want this temple rebuilded.” the man fixes a loose flock of hair on his face. “i want respect for our gods.”  
“you will get it all.” butsuma promises. “just lift the curse from my people.”  
the man touches the broken mask on the altar, and the red marks are lightening up.  
“i want more than just your word. open up your yukata.”  
and butsuma does as he’s told to, as always, blindly listening to orders, never asking.  
the man wears the mask now, his sharingan glowing through it. everything shines red, the markings on the mask, his eyes, his tattoos butsuma notices only now.  
he touches his stomach, slowly sliding his hand from the bottom to the top, making butsuma more than uncomfortable. and then he presses.  
it hurts, his whole body goes numb, and he can feel like his skin under the mans palm is burning. but it doesn’t take long.  
what he feels then is fire in his flesh, but not in a burning alive aspect, but of the unknown source of soft warmness.  
“you and your men will start work tomorrow morning.” the man orders. “you’ve got plenty of time, as we expect the temple to be ready to use on the next blood moon. if you won’t meet the requirements, you will take responsibility of your actions.”  
butsuma takes the last peak at the mark left on his body, before tying his yukata. doesn’t look like much. a circle with moon-like shape under it.  
“it will kill me, right?” he asks, just to be sure.  
“precisely.” the man answers.  
“who are you to the uchiha, that you acquire such power?” butsuma asks. “a monk?”  
“my mother was blessed by our gods.” the man answers, slowly putting the mask down. “she gave birth to our savior.”  
“and demon for the others.” butsuma notices. the man nods.  
“the next blood moon, my gods expect a sacrifice from you.” he touches a wall covered in blood, and smears it between his fingers. “take some food from everyone in your clan. the easier it burns, the better. your people don’t need to believe in our gods, but they are obligated to thank them for being so merciful.”  
mans sharingan is still bright, but butsuma can somehow trust him, that he won’t do harm.  
“and execute the one who led the people that destroyed this place. your father is not coming back.”

* * *

butsuma burns the rice in the flame near the temple.  
the moon looks down on him, shining bright red on the black sky, like sharingan in the dark forest.  
“my people will come soon.” says the voice behind him.  
“tajima.” butsuma quickly recognizes the voice, turning around to see the man.  
he wears the same kimono. as always. the golden accents shine thanks to the warm light from the fire.  
and he’s beautiful. as always. his black lips, so glossy, sharingan just in the right shade of red.  
“unless you want to stay” tajima smiles. “and see how we pray.”  
butsuma smiles back.  
“i’ll stay.”  
butsuma inhales. he smells fire, smoke. flowers. and life.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading.  
> it was supposed to be a drabble, but it turned out to be a one shot. interesting. it's always the other way around.  
> the end was planned to be darker, but idk what happened  
> this is the longest fic i've ever written. as you probably have guessed, it's not my speciality. i struggle a lot with plot and dialogue. feel free to tell me what I should try to pay more attention to next time.  
> but please be gentle. i'm a gen z snowflake.


End file.
